Failing Facades
by CSI4nsicAce
Summary: [GSR] When walls built crumble... COMPLETE


**Failing Facades**

* * *

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to CSI.  
Please do not repost this story anywhere without my permission.  
Thanks, enjoy._

* * *

Standing in the hallway, Grissom knocked on Sara's door, neglecting to use his key due to the want to give her privacy if she so desired. Catherine had confirmed she had left early, having closed her case. Sara had been assigned the case from day shift earlier in the week, and to say she had been deeply affected by it would be an understatement, Grissom knew, having watched each development further antagonize her mind and stifle her communication. "Sara, I brought dinner," he called through the door, hoping she'd respond. 

He leaned against the doorframe and sighed, shifting the bag he carried to his other hand and listening for direction from within. "Gil, just use your key," Sara chided.

Grissom let himself in, closing and chaining the door behind him. He set his bag in the refrigerator and turned to Sara, who was stretched out on the couch. Crouching in front of her, he gave her a soft kiss. "I heard about your case. How are you doing?" Grissom asked.

"I told you when I got moved to this case that it was a shitty week to deal with this," Sara tried to joke, but it fell flat because her tone was off and he saw her pain reflected in her eyes.

"Why don't you go get into bed; you'd be more comfortable? Unless you'd like some of the minestrone or pita I brought."

"Thanks - maybe later," she stated, sitting up. "Curling up in bed sounds like a good idea - join me?"

"Sure."

Grissom rose to his feet and pulled Sara up with him. Giving her a hug and brief kiss, he led her to the bedroom. Already wearing comfortable clothing - lounge pants and a t-shirt - she lay on the bed while Grissom changed into pajama pants and a t-shirt. Once he was more relaxed, he piled the pillows against the headboard, rested against them, and pulled Sara into his chest. They lay quietly for a few minutes, reveling in the comfort of their close proximity, before Sara spoke. "Carla's interrogation took three hours. I just wanted to get out of there."

"Jim said it was tedious."

Sara shrugged, her shoulders disclosing her exhaustion when they sagged again. "People get tired of maintaining a facade. It consumes all of their energy, trying to separate the perceived reality from the reality, and they lose true identity in the process."

A puzzled look crossed his face. "I know who I am."

"As do I. Carla, though, I'm not so sure. Dear Stew was beating her to a pulp while she was trying to convince the world that he was a model husband. She clung to her entirely fabricated family life - with her kids dead now, that's all she has.

"She expected her own injury, but she didn't think he'd go ballistic and harm the children, and when he did, that was it for her - she snapped. Her walls to the outside world were crumbling, and being the dutiful psychologically abused wife that she was, she decided to tell him that they ought to move before someone took action against him, because the bruises were becoming more suspicious.

"Except no one cared enough to actually report him and the bastard got the opportunity to kill two innocent kids beforehand! Now we're interviewing neighbors and coworkers and getting all of the minute details but not one single freaking person piped up when any of this would have mattered. Instead, we have two kids in the morgue, a husband in the morgue, and a wife who is sure as hell on her way there!"

Through with her animated recount, Sara sat up and pushed herself off of the bed in favor of standing by the window. "Sara, it's over. You've done all you can," Grissom reminded her, choosing to stay on the bed to give her some needed space.

"It's hard to feel that way."

Sara lost herself focusing on a distant point outside the window that was brightened by the newly risen sun. "Some time after it happened, there were times that I thought it may have been easier to die along with him that night. I thought I was a bad child - that I had done something wrong to be the one abandoned to deal with the harsh reality that my parents had orchestrated. I mean, my brother didn't even have to deal with it because he took his own way out. I had to deal alone."

Grissom felt his chest tighten with compassion as his image of the woman before him was transformed into the lost teenager who questioned her existence. "But you're not alone now," he spoke, extending her a lifeline.

Sara managed a slight nod. "My life is better than death. I know that now. But those kids didn't get to choose."

"We don't get to choose when we die."

Turning to face him, she shook her head. She started devising thoughts to rebut his assertion, but decided that advocating the choice of suicide wouldn't do much to assure him of her current mental state. Instead, she diverted the conversation to another concern weighing on her mind. "I'd like to take a break - maybe a week."

It took Grissom a moment to catch up with the abrupt redirection of conversation. "Sure, when?"

Sara walked back to the bed and settled across from him so they could talk. "Could I go with you on your lecture trip?"

"We'll have to look at the schedule, since it's in two weeks, but you haven't taken vacation in a while, so it should be alright."

"You won't be worried about appearances?"

"I'd like you to come; I asked you before, remember?"

She attempted to target the aspect of the trip that she thought would most bother him in order to get his opinion on the matter. "The two of us on vacation on the same time? People can put two and two together."

Grissom shrugged. "It's just a trip."

She fell silent, not expecting him to be so nonchalant about the matter. "What is it?" Grissom asked, grasping her hand, wanting her to vocalize any concerns she may have.

"You act like we're not putting on this front. Like we're not pretending this doesn't exist outside of here."

"You're pretending?" Grissom asked, puzzled by her suggestion.

"You're not?"

"I'm being discreet while I try to figure out how the lab will receive our relationship."

Sara turned to lie on her back and stared at the ceiling. "Maybe it's not pretending, but we put on this front, that we're not together, but we're failing, Gil - it's tiring. The way we act at home, it comes through at the lab, and the team knows - probably the whole lab knows; we'd be foolish to think otherwise. I just want to think about us and quit wasting time worrying about bureaucratic nonsense. They control our jobs, but I've had enough - we need to face them so we can reclaim our lives."

Grasping her shoulder so she'd turn back to him, Grissom emphasized, "Sara, just as this case is not your life, my job is _not_ my identity. If it comes to it, I can work elsewhere. I am not tied to the lab."

"But I am. I don't want to leave the lab, Vegas. This is home; I have friends now, and to just pick up and leave again..." she trailed off and sighed.

He cupped her cheek and stroked it with his thumb, buying himself time to develop an appropriate response. "We'll just have to work things out, then," he stated, giving a small smile and kissing her forehead, successfully ending discussion of the subject for the moment.

They slid down the pillows, onto the bed and lay tangled in each other's arms. Sliding his free hand across her back to rest at her lower back, he soothed her. "Sleep - we can take that mask off in the evening."

Her smile was lost in his shirt, but in his arms, she took respite from her worries in sleep, which had been elusive without his presence. He watched over her, admiring the peacefulness of her relaxed features, while prepared to abate her nightmares should she wake and show her **he** was home.

* * *

The End

* * *


End file.
